This is the Beat of my Final Heart
by BanishedOne
Summary: A shy, young man had stumbled into a situation that involved going on tour with his favorite band. It seemed the time to finally find courage within himself was at hand, and there was positively no escaping it. Curiosity killed the cat. But maybe satisfaction could bring it back. [Band AU][VoLink][ZelImpa]
1. Track 1 : Sons of Eldin

'Jade Guardian Soul', the sign read in large, green lettering, glowing like artificial sunshine over the dark, crowded city sidewalk. 'The Sheikah Girls' was listed directly below the first band's title, the slight flicker from the sign reflected in the observant, blue eyes of a young man who was excitedly waiting to get inside the arena, reading the names of the bands over and over again.

The air was slightly cold, to the point that he could see his breath, and he had his hands tucked in his pockets, yet there were so many people crammed together on the sidewalk, the chill could scarcely be felt. It tickled at the back of his neck and the tips of his ears; a little relieving, really.

The young man was quiet, alone, though everybody else around him seemed to chatter. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, he didn't mind. He was used to it. He faded into the background. He savored his excitement as it bubbled and fluttered inside him. This was the first concert he'd ever been to, the first one he'd managed to pluck up the courage to attend by himself.

At last, the line seemed to move regularly; it had been moving in tiny spurts, but now the young man could feel his feet shuffling slowly, but surely. When he finally made it to the booth, his trembling fingers could hardly produce his ticket from his pocket, and he was uncertain whether it made it better or worse that it took an extra moment for the worker behind the glass to locate a special pass for him. (It was one of three.)

He waited, nervous and excited, afraid they might tell him that his pass couldn't be located, afraid they might return and just give it to him, and then he'd be out of chances to turn back, even though he didn't want to.

His lesser fear became a reality, but the panic in his heart filled him with adrenaline which only inflamed his excitement even more. His heart pounded in his ears and he was suddenly so warm; perhaps his scarf was on too tight?

Inside the lobby of the arena, the young man paused to discern where he needed to go in order to find the stage. There were people everywhere, moving and standing, talking and walking, and with everybody doing something different, it was difficult to latch onto what was the most appropriate thing to be doing. Moreover, no matter what the blonde boy did, he had to move through a crowd or else, block the doorway.

The main source of the crowding happened to be all the people waiting in line at the merch booth. 'Sheik has stated that he is male,' the young man heard a bit of conversation as he tried to squeeze through, though his quiet 'excuse me' seemed to have been missed so he was stuck for a moment.

'The band is called 'The Sheikah_ Girls_'. Sheik can't be a dude,' another member of the group stated, with somebody quietly nodding and chiming in, 'Yeah, that is a good point. Why do they make it so confusing?'

'But what about Darunia? Darunia is obviously not a woman, so the band name doesn't apply to him,' another person suggested, to which another person replied, 'The band name represents the singers, as the faces of the band. So, he's right, like.. Why would they be called 'The Sheikah Girls' if Sheik was really a dude?' Someone laughed and added, 'Since when do we expect band's names to make actual sense?'

'Sheik just can't be a dude, or else I'd have a severely confused boner,' some member of the group stated. Clearly, the young man paying witness couldn't really discern who was speaking anymore, as he was only trying to get through. 'That's gotta be a chick's ass in those tight pants, am I right?,' somebody laughed.

Managing at last to politely squeeze beyond the merch line, and the group of debaters, the young man found his way into the main arena, which was already about half full with people. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen so many people all in one place. He wasn't sure if he needed to go any further, or just try to watch the show from the back of the arena, maybe?

He didn't want to shortchange himself, so after a bit of mental coaching, he proceeded toward the back of the crowd. It was alright, because watching the stageworkers put all the equipment together was interesting enough, and the boy didn't really even notice as the crowd began to amass behind him, closing him in. Occasionally, he even spotted one of the actual band members, and he watched in interest, feeling the excitement of all the people who must have been doing the same, because there came a dull roar from the crowd, just a bit louder than the casual chatter all around him.

Everything here was so new to him, and though his hands still shook, he felt maybe he was enjoying it? The voices of so many people, the warmth collecting like a cloud inside the building, despite the fact that some areas of the industrial setting were open to the outside air, with only cement pillars and cinderblock half-walls to hold the high ceiling in place and keep everybody enclosed, for the most part.

There was a vendor at the far side of the arena selling the small sized bottles of water for ten dollars each, and Link surely couldn't fathom paying that much. Why would it be priced like that anyway?

The young man couldn't even see the area he entered from anymore, but he didn't look too long, because he didn't want the people behind him thinking he was looking at them for any reason. He actually couldn't even decide if the people directly behind him could tell what he was looking at, because suddenly the only lights visible were coming from the stage, and the crowd had become a deep, dark sea. He was suddenly one single molecule of water in a vast ocean, moving with the random, fluid tandem on the waves. There were no people, just humid warmth, the hiss of the waves as they broke atop one another, and the sea was paying witness to a great ship that floated above, lusting to pull it under if given half a chance, merciless in admiration.

Idly, members of the first band begin to make more and more appearances on the stage, just testing their instruments as though hundreds of people weren't watching at all. It must have taken an iron will, or else, it had become standard. An older, heavyset man with messy, white spikes strode upon the stage, a frail-looking girl just casually riding in the grasp of his huge, muscular arms. He carried her over to a bench where the keyboard was set up, as though this were merely his duty, and the crowd seemed to purr at this. A soft smile found it's way to the young man's face as he observed. These bands seemed so close, like family. He wondered what they must have been through to forge relationships like that?

Having tended to his bandmate, the man calmly ambled over to his drum set, checking over each piece to see that it was in proper order. It was only a few moments later that the two singers at last appeared. The taller of the two seemed to walk more quickly, and the shorter one followed in her stride and in her shadow, as though he were hiding himself. Link assumed that, because he was placing himself in that situation, in his mind.

When these two appeared, the noise from the crowd slowly, softly died out, and there was a feeling of feverish apprehension that passed through every person, which the young man could sense as it passed through him as well. Or maybe it was just him? Then, with the slightest gesture of the female singer, the voice of the crowd rose in volume and pitch, so much that it tickled at the insides of the young man's ears.

The female singer had but raised her hand in greeting, taking her microphone in hand as she approached the edge of the stage, bravely standing at the edge of what must have seemed like carnal abyss. Her skin was a warm, lovely shade of brown, even under the harsh whitewash of the stage lights, and though she smiled in a reserved manner, the soft upturn of her lips was plain to see, even from where Link stood. She had this strong, silent charm that bid everybody before her scream for no particular reason. Even Link's heart was racing.

The other singer had donned his bass guitar, adjusting the strap slightly, before giving the strings a tentative strum. He must have found the tuning very slightly improper, because he gave one or two of the tuning keys a slight turn, then tested the sound of each string.

The sound of the tuning was interrupted when the female singer at last spoke into her microphone. Her voice was calm and serious, stern yet silky, evoking a sound somewhere between a figure of authority and something much more seductive, all in one. Her accented enunciations gave her words a musical quality, even without melody to accompany it. She thanked the crowd for coming out tonight to see them, then said, "Sheik has something to say to some of you," looking back at her fellow musician.

Now, Sheik approached his own microphone, pushing his bass around behind him as he stood straight and poised before the stand, and though he wore both a scarf and what appeared to be a surgical mask, his voice still came over the speakers loud and clear, so clear it was as though he were standing directly before you, speaking solely to you, which was a bit intimidating, really.

He tugged at his scarf as he leaned into the microphone and said simply, "I am a man," serious and without an ounce of hesitation to be heard. Then, a single, gloved hand reached down, his fingers tucking between his legs and firmly grasping at the area between as he continued, "and if you don't like that, you can suck my dick."

Sheik raised his other hand above his head, proudly giving everybody before him the bird, and the crowd only cheered. That's all anybody did was cheer. It seemed in this music genre, the more offensive or provocative any bandmember could be up on the stage, the more elated and euphoric the crowd was in swallowing each word and action, the more hyped the crowd became, like a raging mob that didn't know if it wanted to kill or worship you. It was unreal, like some out-of-body experience, honestly.

Even Link caught himself finally letting go of his horrid inhibitions and cheering, despite the fact that he hadn't come to see The Sheikah Girls. He couldn't hear his own voice over the crowd either, and he could barely make out the silhouette of his hands in front of him. He became one with the heart of the crowd, just one little beat of its pounding heart, his voice a part of the noise, yet mute just the same, and that thrilled him.

;

As the last song was completed, Zelda was the first to find her way off the stage. Impa had barely finished giving her last address to the adoring crowd when she caught sight of her friend darting from the public eye. She also did not fail to see the mild concern in the eyes of Ruto and Darunia, which they mostly masked, averting their attention. Everything was normal.

Zelda always was the first off the stage these days, just as much as she refused to go on without Impa to cast a shadow upon her. The worried singer did what she could to make haste in leaving the stage herself in order to accompany her friend, not wishing to allow Zelda to feel alone when the tides of her moods rushed back and forth in a torrent of chaos. She also had to attend to and conceal, if she could, the unsteady nature of Zelda's mental state from everybody, even their bandmates, lest anybody lose the ability to give the fans some illusion of pure composure.

It took real talent to hide one's humanity from so many people, to just be something, like a mythological creature, or an untouchable character, perfect at all times. People latched onto weakness like wolves, and could tear a person to shreds with ease. For this reason, Impa made herself the pillar of strength that would hold her friends up.

Quietly, the tall woman meandered the backstage halls, finding her way to the dressing room shared between Zelda, herself, Ruto and two girls from the other band that would be playing. Concerned crimson eyes looked over her friend, as she found Zelda slumped, with her palms against a cluttered countertop directly before the mirror.

"What's wrong?," she asked, her voice as smooth as flowing water, though this was a question she really did not have to ask.

Zelda raised her head just enough to peer back in Impa's direction in the mirror, blonde hair obscuring the red in her eyes, though even so, it could still be seen that her gaze was as taut with worry and frustration as her body, too heavy for her to hold up for very much longer. She gave her best friend this look, silent but burdened, and perfectly aware that Impa knew the answer to her own question.

"You used to be happy after shows," Impa stated in a quiet, gentle tone, her shoulders shrugging with such ease, as though her friend had nothing at all to worry about, or at least she wished she could make Zelda believe that.

"How much longer will the dream last, I wonder..," came Zelda's reply, dark and forlorn, though as she found the will to speak, she found the will to move and began undressing herself, her motions jerky and frustrated, her limbs not even belonging to her.

The older of the two took a step into the dressing room, quickly shutting the door behind herself to see to it that her friend could remain undisturbed. She leaned herself back against the door in silence as Zelda continued to speak, her voice tremulous with worry and anger. "How much longer before some other pretentious asshole 'hints' at things to fans, or some scumbag wannabe photographer catches something on camera, then sells the photos to some shitty music magazine trying to get itself on the map?"

Impa could but hear her dearest friend out, sharing her same concerns, though more deeply troubled by the worry for her friend's mental state, wishing she could diffuse this tension, wishing she could do more than what was realistic. She would change the world around for Zelda, if it were in her power to do so.

Ever so poised on the outside, having to reflect some sense of calm and stability for Zelda's sake, Impa spoke up to answer her friend, even if her wise words were likely words Zelda did not wish to hear. "We will all do our very best to protect you, you know that. We're all right here for you," she said, "...but perhaps it is best that you be the source your family discovers this from?"

"That would ruin everything!," Zelda hissed in reply, shaking her head at such a notion. Her family only saw what they wanted. Her family expected so much. And she was born into a responsibility she knew she could never escape, though she yearned for that escape more than anything else.

She just wanted to be Sheik a little while longer. Was that too much to ask?

And yet, she waged a war within herself, struggling to remain asleep, to remain within her dream, even though the tighter and longer she held onto this illusion, the closer she came to jeopardizing the life of her dearest friend, and Impa's entire family. How much longer could she selfishly hoard her foolish happiness, while the stability of those she cared for most hung in the balance?

;

"Where is everybody?," the short, blue-haired girl decidedly asked a random stage worker, as though he knew anything about the comings and goings of the musicians. The worker eyed the girl nervously, looking as though he wanted to help, since the girl was positively made of sugar, yet absolutely certain he could do nothing. In fact, he was pretty much forbidden to bother the musicians, so was he even allowed to speak with her?

The stage worker hesitantly shook his head, so hesitant, in fact, his gesture was scarcely a fidget. To this, the girl crossed her arms, upset but certain she wasn't so terrifying. "What is it? Are you afraid of me?," she asked in a confused and frustrated tone.

Before the helpless worker could even ponder whether or not he should answer the question, the stage manager appeared at lightning pace, having been darting about to make sure everything was running smoothly.

"What's wrong?," she asked in a professional tone, devoid of emotion. She looked to the worker, who merely shook his head and shuffled back to work, knowing instantly that this excused him from the adorable musician's questioning. The manager then turned her gaze upon the blue-haired musician, who gave her tiny foot a stamp, fluttering the soft pleats of her skirt.

"I can't find my sister, Cedric, or Volga anywhere and our equipment is set up, and we were given the okay to go on, so now we're already behind schedule," she shrugged and threw up her hands in a gesture of frustrated helplessness, her distaste for things not going as planned fairly plain to see.

"I assure you, everything is fine," the manager stated, though not really in a way that was reassuring, "the team had eyes on the other members of your band approximately five minutes prior to now, within the vicinity. The likelihood that they have gone very far is extremely low, and in all probability, they will most likely arrive within the approximate span of the next minute."

Lana didn't even need time to calm down or respond to the stage manager's words, because the missing members promptly appeared seconds after the manager finished speaking. The girl wasn't sure which she understood less, the manager's sense of calm under pressure, or her remarkable accuracy in tracking completely random events.

"Where were you guys?," she asked, flustered but much too pouty in her way of expressing herself to be taken very seriously.

"Calm down," came Cia's voice, composed to a point of indifference, "we were just having a smoke before we go on."

That tone, the way she spoke, it left Lana completely ruffled and peeved, because she could swear that her twin never took her worries seriously. Nevertheless, she could only sigh and let it go, because it was neither the time nor place for sibling drama.

"Alright, well, everything is set up, is everybody ready now?," she asked with renewed composure, smiling and cocking her head softly to one side.

The tallest male of the group did not even answer, choosing instead to walk right past Lana, peeking out toward the crowd from the shadows, which was as good as an assurance that he was ready, anyway.

"We already knew everything was ready," Cia informed her neurotic sister, "Cedric jacked a stagehand's earpiece."

The drummer gave a sly chuckle, and confessed, "I was just eavesdropping, but yeah."

Lana was just about to say something, the worry returning to her face, but apprehending that they would be needlessly chastised, Cia cut her sister off, saying, "So what are you waiting for? Get out there!" then she gave her twin a tiny shove.

Once more, the blue-haired girl sighed her meager worries away, and did as her sister instructed, though her tiny hands smoothed out her skirt after being scooted along in such a way. Her stride took on a kind of skipping rhythm as she went out onto the stage, welcoming the big roar that came in response to her appearance, though she was certain the crowd was extra unruly, since they were a few minutes late.

The girl greeted the fans with a wave, and she sweetly blew them kisses where she stood, confident and at home before the crowd. Volga quietly followed after the girl, paying no real heed to the crowd's cheering response to his presence, and offering no response. He had no interest in milking the fans for approval, only in making music. He took up his guitar, and played a few tentative notes to test its tune, to which Lana did a small, cute dance move.

Cia and Cedric followed the other two out as well, and though Cia did not walk to the edge of the stage to greet the cheers that welcomed her appearance, she undoubtedly reacted, posing and giving the crowd adoring looks, as though it were one entity before her, and most beloved and dear to her heart. Even Cedric blew kisses to the fans, though it was uncertain whether he did this to mock the twins, or if he truly relished the fame and praise as much as the other two. He always took as much guiltless advantage of the physical benefits offered to him as Cia happened to.

The members each promptly took up their individual instruments, though Lana was the first to lead into a song, her playing quick and peppy, her tiny fingers furiously nimble on the strings, her heart in every single note and riff. It was only when the sound of Volga's guitar followed up with Lana's intro and joined in harmonious unison that the song delved into a suddenly darker, more aggressive sound.

Cia's fingers were equally skillful on the bass and she stood by Lana's side at the forefront of the band, despite the fact that Volga provided the main vocals to complete their dark sound, whereas the twins provided something of a sweet, toxic undertone as backup vocals.

Their first song was one of those short, sweet little openers; just long and rough enough to rile the crowd and get them on some wild kind of musical high, while leaving them wanting so much more. Thirsty. Hungry. Ravenous. Lusting.

When the song played to its final note, Lana and Cia welcomed the crowd, providing all of the dialogue for the band. Something about the way they both complimented and offset each other proved to be provocative and entertaining, one sweet and bubbly, the other more cynical and sensuous.

Even Cedric sometimes worked in his own little comments, his raspy voice a rare, delectable treat, his words often borderlining something horribly inappropriate, but darkly humourous.

Volga, however, never spoke on stage. Rarely did he even comment in interviews. His voice was something of an enigma. The sound heard the most, yet least by every fan. Still, they managed to adore him, even if he never expected such.

;

"Who is that kid?," they were saying.

"He looks really fuckin' weird."

"I think that's the kid who ruined that dude on the football team's face."

"I thought he moved, or got expelled?"

"No, they put him in alternative school until his senior year, because he's got issues."

"Oh God.. I really wanted to make it through this last year without a school shooting."

The table he chose to sit at was scarcely occupied. It was nearest to the cafeteria exit, and there were perhaps only three other people loosely scattered about the seats, which offered him plenty of space to just be alone. The seat he selected was tucked behind this odd, out of place pillar, so he was partially hidden from view.

He couldn't be bothered to care about the kids who kept sneaking glances in his direction. He had no fear nor care for their opinions and gossip, he simply wished to remain undisturbed as it was all he was used to anymore. He had in one hand a book, which he'd borrowed from the library during his library aide period, and his plan was to have his lunch and read in peace.

Nearby, another girl sat reading as well, blocking out the noise of the school cafeteria with whatever bouncy tune was coming through her headphones and causing her to tap her fingers against the tabletop. She wore a blue and gray hooded sweatshirt that fit her oddly and had clearly been worn to the point that the material had tiny fuzzy pieces clinging on the surface.

A few minutes passed before she looked up from her book and realized that somebody new was sitting at her table. At that instant, she scooted herself down a few seats, directly across from the other student.

Volga could hear her jaw moving softly as she chewed at a piece of gum idly, eyes like pale jewels watching him as he read. When he refused to give her his attention, she reached out to slowly lift the book he had been reading so that she could get a glimpse of the cover. This was at last enough to provoke a glare of vivid warning, but she just smiled, and said, "I read that series a long time ago. It's pretty good, huh?"

Her voice and smile were both as sweet as sugar, the entirety of her being a mix of naivety and candy, as though her every bone were built from kindness and sunshine.

"Yeah," the tall male intoned, his annoyance fading into disinterest as his eyes trailed back to the pages, thinking that this girl would leave him be. He answered her question, after all.

"Do you want some gum? I have blue raspberry flavor," she offered, though Volga only shook his head, and she fell into silence again for another moment or two before she asked, "Do you read manga, too?"

Once again, the quiet male's jade gaze was raised in annoyance, but she only smiled again when he looked at her. How could anyone be angry at such a girl? She had a childlike quality that brought on a certain guilt, should one even consider treating her harshly. Sighing, Volga's voice quietly spoke up in question. "What is manga?"

"It's like a comic book, but from Japan," she explained in her most bubbly tone. Actually, that was likely her normal tone.

"No," he answered.

"Here! I can let you borrow some!," she excitedly offered, peering down toward her bag and digging through it, "I have the first volume in this series, so you can read it. Here!"

A book was thrust before the stoic, blonde male and he quietly, and somewhat hesitantly took the book from her hand, giving it a questioning stare first before shifting that same stare to her.

"Take your time with it, it's fine," she spoke sweetly, though Volga had this vague feeling like he was being tricked into something. Still, he laid the book he'd been given underneath his own, signaling that he had accepted the offer she'd thrust upon him.

After this, there were a few minutes of peace; the odd girl went back to reading whatever book it was that she had been originally looking at and Volga continued to read his book in the unsteady silence that fell between them.

There were only a few minutes left before the end of their lunch period when the peculiar girl decided to shove one of her earphones in the silent male's direction. Again, his eyes silently questioned the girl, honestly wondering how much sugar it took for any person to be the way this girl was.

"Listen to this song. It's pop music from Japan. It's really cool," she insisted, pretty face, sweet smile, warm eyes- much too friendly, but too friendly to reject, so Volga simply did as he was asked. He listened to the song until the bell rang, which was when he gave the girl her earbud back. She stood up with him, walking by his side out of the cafeteria and down the hall.

"What did you think?," she asked, her blue eyes watching his face, seeming as though she were analyzing him.

"I didn't understand it," he stated, noticing with a side glance that the girl who was dwarfed at his side looked a little downtrodden, and he added, "but it was alright."

To this, she smiled gladly and gave a little wave. "Kay! I'll let you listen to more tomorrow or something!," she said before she ran off.

Volga distinctly believed he had gotten himself into something he wouldn't be able to get himself out of.

;

The show was long over, and most of the crowd had dispersed, but three individuals had used their special passes to get beyond the stage security, which consisted of monstrously tall, bulky individuals in red shirts that read 'Sheild Moblin Security'.

These three particular individuals had been thrust into the hands of the stage manager, who escorted them backstage, giving them a short tour and view of things, allowing the musicians adequate time to freshen up a bit, or at least rest.

"Given recent events, the likelihood that Sheik simply returned straight to his tourbus is very high, so unfortunately it is doubtful that you'll get to meet with him. However, if you'll wait here, I estimate that the other musicians will come along to meet with you within the next five minutes, and they'll sign your autographs then."

After explaining things, the manager gave the trio a small, professional smile and set back to work making sure her workers were on schedule with the cleanup.

"I'm so excited," one of the girls among the group whispered to nobody in particular, "that was such a great show."

"Was this your first time seeing these bands?," another girl asked the other, smiling as she stood by her side.

"I've seen 'Jade Guardian Soul' three times now," the first answered.

"Oh really? It gets better every time, right?"

"It does!"

The third member of the backstage group remained quiet, letting the conversation between the two girls fade into the background as he curiously peered about the area. Then, he became certain he heard the soft patter of footsteps from a darkened hallway, which, upon visual inspection, was accompanied by a tiny, reddish-orange light.

"..I thought I heard some chattering back here," came a voice from the shady area, and at last the drummer from 'Jade Guardian Soul' skulked from the shadows, a cigarette between his spindly fingers. The young man who had noticed his presence wondered just how long he'd been standing there.

The girls both went silent in response, staring at one of their rockstar idols, suddenly standing before them. The excitement gathered around them like a cloud of static, which could be felt.

"So, did you all enjoy the show?," the drummer asked, his cracked lips pulling into a smirk as his single, uncovered eye looked over the visitors one at a time. His gaze landed lastly upon a young man who was standing quietly behind the girls who had been chatting previously. The drummer looked him over, wondering what the hell he was even wearing, like.. a plain, green hoodie and toque with some khaki jeans and a blue scarf? Who dressed like that?

It was seldom even a full minute before the twins came along, not wanting to allow Cedric to be alone for a long period of time with impressionable fans, possibly minors. Volga and Impa followed closely and quietly behind.

It was Lana, of course, who greeted the winners of the backstage tickets that had been contest prizes. She always hugged the fans and asked them about their nights, and if they enjoyed the show. She was always so kind, which was why she was the perfect person to do what she did, making conversation with the fans, allowing them to feel appreciated, in turn.

"Okay, so we've got two free teeshirts for each of you, and they're all signed by every band member, even the ones who aren't here yet!," she explained.

"Where's Sheik?," one of the girls asked.

"Yeah, where is he?"

"Sheik was tired," Impa spoke up in her friend's absence, "Plus, he got groped by an undercover gender conspiracy theorist the last time we did something like this, so he decided to sit this one out."

"Aww- that rude person ruined it for all of us? I'm so sad! Tell him I'm sorry that happened, alright?"

"I'll tell him," Impa smiled softly and gave a nod.

Amidst this conversation, the delicate pianist from 'Sheikah Girls' joined the group, though it was difficult to immediately notice her arrival, as she was hidden behind the crowd, sitting in her wheelchair. She 'ahem'ed' noticeably enough, and those standing in front of her moved quickly aside so she could be seen and she smiled graciously.

As Lana handed the quiet male of the trio his prizes, she kind of laughed, and said, "Y'know, I'd almost not notice you here, you're so quiet."

"Sorry," the young man spoke, his blue eyes downcast, and a soft, embarrassed smile tugged at his lips. Again, Lana just gave a light-hearted, little laugh.

"Shy, huh? That's okay! You know, Volga was just like that when I met him, too," Lana glanced back at the tallest male standing among the group. Cedric was handing him a cigarette and Volga just kind of gestured as he lit it. When Lana turned back to the quiet boy, she shrugged and said, "He's still like that, really."

The young man laughed and gave a tiny nod, and the blue-haired girl decidedly continued to speak with him, not wanting his shyness to cost him any enjoyment of this moment. She didn't like to see people left out. "So, which band was your favorite?," she asked.

The boy paused, as if in thought, a nervous hand raising up to brush his blonde bangs aside, then he quietly uttered, "yours," in confession. He continued by saying, "The Sheikah Girls were great, too."

Lana clapped her hands together in excitement and glee, then asked, "What's your favorite song?"

"Hm," the young man thought for a moment once more, not wanting to seem overly sure of himself or too hasty, then stated, "The one that makes reference to the 'Sons of Eldin' series. That's my favorite series, and the song kind of sounds like it's from the perspective of the dragon character."

"Oh, I love that series, too!," Lana responded sweetly again, though she gestured to the tall man once again, "But Volga wrote the lyrics and the music for that one."

The young man's blue eyes drifted shyly to the other quiet male standing a bit behind the group, but he openly addressed him, "The song explored aspects about the character that the author of the series kind of just didn't cover."

Volga was taking a draw from his cigarette as the shorter male spoke, green eyes looking over the young man, a little perplexed that this boy could have known what that song was even in reference to. Most people just assumed it was some sort of romance song, whereas it actually explored the feelings of the dragon character as he was hunted by the Knight character. Volga contemplated just nodding to the boy, but in his intrigue, he could not resist speaking up in question, "You think Eldin felt that way?," Volga asked, his voice soft as he spoke, his words vague.

Link smiled, feeling as though he were a bit flushed in embarrassment. It wasn't helping that the other two girls were watching the exchange, perplexed and amazed that anyone could force actual speech from Volga. "Yeah, I think he did," the young man responded, "I'm glad somebody else thinks so. When I was growing up, thinking he felt that way helped me feel a bit better about some things in my life."

Volga exhaled a stream of smoke, nodding softly with an expression very subtly differeing from his usual indifference- he was surprised, maybe even impressed.

"So, are we going for coffee, or what?," Cia suddenly interupted,

"Yeah," Lana agreed, looking to their guests, "and are you all interested in joining us?"

"Yeah! For sure!," the girls all spoke without any hesitance. Link nodded, the smile and flush of excitement not fading from his face, the air suddenly too thick to breathe, or else his heart was pounding too hard to allow it.

;

Link was always the sort to follow at the very back of the group. Quiet and unassuming, not wanting to block anybody else's stride, not wanting to get closed in, not wanting to interrupt anybody else's conversation.

The relative quiet at the tail end of the slowly paced group was what allowed the young man to catch the harmonious sound of strings being gently strummed, and he stopped, listening to the melancholy sound of the instrument being played. The song was very soft, and heartfelt and such a thing tugged at his curiosity. The group was traveling very slow after all, so he had time to catch up if he lagged behind, and he found himself wandering innocently toward where one of the tour busses was parked.

Link easily realized that the sound of the instrument being played was so easily audible because it was coming from the tour bus, and the door was cracked open just slightly, maybe enough for a fist to be squeezed through. He became instantly nervous upon this realization, however, and decided it was not in his best interest to go any further. However, just as Link was about to turn around, the door was pushed open, and he was met with a pair of bright blue eyes that stared at him, aghast that he should even be standing there.

The shocked musician gaped in silence, her rosy cheeks wet with tears that she hadn't expected anyone to see.

"..s-..Sheik?," the young man uttered, unsure of what to say, though he had a terrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, and he took a few steps back, since the person before him seemed like a frightened doe that had been snuck upon by a merciless hunter, and Link definitely wasn't that. In fact, he certainly was clueless as to why Sheik looked so upset, but if the tone of his playing was any indication, his heart must have been in a million tiny pieces.

But then, the musician's demeanor suddenly shifted, and his startled, morose gaze became one of anger and distrust, his voice hissing, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Actually, Link was a bit unsure about things- prior to now, he hadn't made a habit of questioning people's genders, and he fully believed that Sheik was a man, just as he had said on stage, though now.. Even in an oversized hoodie, Link could see that if Sheik was a man, he was a man with breasts.

"Were you spying?," Sheik asked, though it was actually more of an accusation, "Do you have a camera with you? Were you taking pictures?"

"No, I..," Link shook his head, wholly confused and astounded, "..I just heard the music.. I didn't know anybody here played the harp, and I was.. just curious."

The sound of the commotion, or else the fact that Link was missing at last drew the attention of another band member, and Impa swiftly rounded the side of the tour bus, something about her gait and posture suddenly incredibly intimidating. Even Sheik looked as though he was about to cut out the young man's eyes and tongue, so that he could never speak of this, much less go peeping ever again.

"What the Hell are you doing over here?," Impa growled, her voice as steeped in accusation as Sheik's had been, but much more stern. The blonde boy didn't even have the will to attempt explaining himself a second time, but it didn't matter whether he could or not, because Sheik spoke up before Link could say anything, looking to Impa with anger furrowing his (her?) brow.

"I knew those backstage tickets were a bad idea. How could you just let this guy wander off?," Sheik furiously hissed, and Link watched as Impa's reserve cracked a bit at this tone.

"I'm sorry," Impa breathed an apology in earnest, "I didn't notice him slip away."

Sheik said nothing, instead slamming the tour bus door shut right there, and leaving his band mate to deal with this awkward situation. Link barely managed to raise his eyes to Impa's face as she breathed a deep sigh, so he dared not move or complain, though he made a small attempt to reconcile. "I.. didn't mean any harm," he quietly muttered, his voice as weak as it was confused.

The taller woman did not yet respond, the skin between her brows wrinkling in contemplation as the wheelchair bound band member also appeared from around the other side of the bus, and approached the two standing in silence. She looked between Link and Impa, a flustered sigh being set free before she addressed her bandmate.

"What happened?," she asked, her voice silvery and delicate, but also poised and with a certain sureness, as though she were only asking to reaffirm.

"We've got a troublemaker on our hands," Impa plainly stated, her tone tired and slightly sullen, though her words still managed to terrify Link as he stood there, feeling perfectly harmless, and not sure why he'd caused such a stir.

"Should I call security?," the wheelchair bound woman asked, seeming a bit devoid of pity, though perhaps it was merely reserve.

"No," Impa breathed, her deep, red eyes peering down on Link where he stood, "it's not that simple this time."

;

TBC


	2. Track 2 : Enlistment

What had he gotten himself into? Who could have ever guessed that a few missteps in the wrong direction could place him under so much scrutiny? He was normally so cautious, measuring the possibility for adverse reactions to any of his potential actions, yet as he stood here, hands clenched together tight to steady the trembling, he supposed this was why they always said, '_curiosity killed the cat_'.

Three individuals stood before the young man, a jury of sorts, deciding his fate. Impa stood in solemn silence, seemingly most composed, though the creases in her brow foretold her displeasure. The drummer from 'The Sheikah Girls', Darunia, gave Link the most hardened of glares, dark eyes boring into the boy, his big, crossed arms like loaded guns sitting, waiting in their holsters for the guilty verdict.

Yet most threatening of all seemed to be the keyboardist; her approach to this situation was the most cold and though every person present had to peer downward to regard her, she had the most commanding of tones, having taken the lead in deciding how best to deal with the nuisance Link had made of himself.

"I don't know how you all would function without me," Ruto stated, her voice light and airy, yet almost clinical, "this situation really isn't terribly troubling."

Deep, red eyes refocused from the boy to Ruto and Impa gave her band mate a look of curiosity and concern. Part of her longed to believe that all this really was a severe overreaction, but the emotional part of her that longed to protect Zelda- it was not so easy to force feed the heart with logic.

Ruto breathed a sigh, though it was one of slight disappointment in her fellows for either not having her quick wit, or for simply doubting her in silence. "Darunia," she spoke up, polite and somehow deeply authoritative at the very same time, "Reach into my bag and give me my checkbook."

The stocky, older man asked no questions, doing only exactly as he was asked. It was Impa who quietly raised a brow at the simple notion of what was about to happen. Something about rewarding someone who had caused her beloved friend so much stress filed her with momentary bitterness.

The small, delicate girl before Link laid her checkbook against the arm of her chair, writing out a random sum, then she raised expectant, violet eyes to the blonde male who had been standing in quiet anxiousness. "You're going to sign a legally binding contract that explicitly states that you will not, under any circumstance, communicate any information you might have acquired concerning Sheik, verbally, visually, or otherwise. You're going to accept payment in return for signing this contract," the woman informed Link, not asking, tempting, or bargaining with him, but telling him, "and if you break the contract, trust that I'll basically own your ass for life."

Ruto smiled pertly, softly inclining her head to one side so that her blue curls moved gently against one of her pale cheeks.

Link cleared his throat, certain that his voice was unsteady, and he gave a shrug before saying, "I don't know anything about Sheik."

Both Impa and Darunia looked to Ruto when she was given this response, and somehow it made Link wish to shrink away until he disappeared. Ruto merely narrowed her eyes as she stared unflinchingly at the stubborn boy before her. "You see," she began, "I simply don't care if you 'don't know anything' because realistically, if you've stood in Sheik's presence, you know enough. Or if you think somebody else might pay you more for your information- I'm telling you right now that this is your only option and I'm willing to add as many zeros as it takes to sway you. I'll just consider any refusal an indirect request to be paid more."

To emphasize her point, the seated girl moved the pen between her delicate fingers against the check once again, adding a few zeros to the number she had already written.

"Are you..," Link stammered, quickly becoming as confounded as he was unnerved, "...really threatening me by throwing money at me?" His confused blue eyes looked up from Ruto, to her silent bandmates, imploring, wanting nothing really at this point but to be allowed to go on his way.

"Look at me!" Ruto hissed, not a drop of anger in her silvery voice, though her words were sharply demanding. She added yet more zeros to the number, or else she appeared to as her pen scratched upon the paper once again.

Perhaps the young man had thought that using money to threaten a person was bizarre, but nevertheless, he quickly began to feel the pressure to just accept weighing upon him. He could not speak or even look to anybody else for reason and he was not even allowed time to think, so in its odd way, Ruto's plan began to loosen Link from the stubbornness born from his nervousness.

"Okay, okay!," Link at last spoke up, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, "I'll take it, but.."

Perhaps the pressure had gotten to the boy, forcing some maddened bit of impulsiveness into his normally constant, careful method of thought. Some tiny voice inside just suddenly whispered words that he heedlessly repeated- My life is at an impasse. My plans for the future are nil. I have nothing for myself, but I have _something_ that I want, and here is my perfect chance.

"I'd like it if the contract you mentioned could include a job for me, as one of the stage workers, even," he blurted, his voice soft but certain, despite his lack of consideration.

"What?," Impa's mistrust finally forced her from silence, "this boy has already made an effort to spy on Sheik, and now he honestly believes we would allow him to constantly be in our company at each venue?" She looked to Ruto, hopeful for some sign that the young heiress and bandmate would agree, then she rapidly shifted her attention back to the young man, and sharply stated, "You're out of your mind."

"Are you a pervert?," Darunia spoke up with a chuckle, obviously not viewing the young man or Impa's reactions in such a serious light after all. (Link guessed he just looked intimidating.)

"No," Link shook his head, one corner of his lips raising into something of a nervous grin, "I'm not a pervert."

"Done," Ruto answered after a pause, signing her name to the check to complete the deal.

"What?," the taller woman interrupted again, still astounded that this boy would make such a ludicrous suggestion, and even more astounded that her bandmate would accept it, "No. I refuse to allow it," she said in a serious tone.

The seated woman just shrugged, raising her eyes to Impa, who stood by her side, stating, "The stage workers are instructed not to bother us, as it interrupts both our jobs and theirs, and on their team, work is top priority. I don't even know why somebody would desire something so brutal." Here, Ruto's soft, pale lips curved in sly amusement, and she added, "Also, as a stage worker, Fi will be his boss, and we know that she knows everything that goes on with her crew. Nothing escapes her. We'll have a constant eye on this kid."

The mild volume of the conversation peaked as Darunia let out a belly laugh, leaning over and slapping his knee as he also realized what their peeping tom was getting into. "Fi is a slave driver!" he managed through his giggles.

Impa's intensity appeared to lessen as Ruto reassured her, but she still crossed her arms and softly asked, "But how will Sheik react to this?"

"Well," the seated woman responded as she tore out the check she'd written, "honestly, I don't really think the boy was up to anything nefarious. He just seems curious about life on tour, and extremely naive. If anything is more likely, it was that Sheik was being..jumpy."

A gruff noise of acceptance came from Impa, though she gave Link one last skeptical glare. "All I care about is that Sheik is protected," she uttered as she shook her head and strode away, leaving Ruto and Darunia to deal with the boy.

Link was fairly bemused, mostly in considering that the keyboardist who was presently handing him a check actually believed he was innocent, despite her intimidating techniques. He peered down at the piece of paper in his hand, at the sum he had sold himself for, and at the neatly looping signature; Ruto Zorakawa.

"Welcome to hell," the young woman joked as Link accepted the money, or at least Link assumed it was a joke, because of the light way she laughed after she uttered these words. But the young man forcibly swallowed down his uneasiness as the check was folded and stuffed into his pocket, because there was always the possibility that she _wasn't actually joking_, and he'd gotten himself into something more deep and terrible than he'd ever dared before.

It seemed the time to finally find courage within himself was at hand, and there was positively no escaping it. Curiosity killed the cat.

_But maybe satisfaction could bring it back._

;

The troublesome brat was sent off with Darunia, who would escort him to the manager of the stage workers; Ruto asked her bandmate to pass along the information regarding the contract and its terms to Fi, so that she could take care of having it written up. Best to inconvenience her with it, so she would be even more cross with the new addition.

The heiress had some other issues pestering her, and honestly was glad to be done dealing with this hiccup. For one, she had realized at the beginning of dealing with the little peeping tom that there were more eavesdroppers in their midst, noticing a pair of shoes planted firmly on the other side of the tour bus. She was likely the only one who noticed this, because she was the only one close enough to the ground to see.

Ruto now wheeled herself to the other side of the vehicle in order to confront the eavesdropper, finding it to be the drummer of 'Jade Guardian Soul'. He was just standing there as though he were perfectly innocent, wearing that ridiculous purple cloak-thing with his hood pulled over his head and a cigarette burning between his spindly fingers.

"Weren't you supposed to go with your band, to tend to the experience of those fangirls?" she chastised as she questioned.

The drummer chuckled in amusement, and responded in his gruff tone, "This was more interesting."

"How long were you here?," Ruto asked.

Cedric raised his cigarette to his cracked lips, taking a long draw from it before exhaling his reply with his smoke, saying, "The whole time."

A look of disgust crossed Ruto's visage, and she sat in silence for a moment as she contemplated the man before her, her mind working over something unstated while her violet eyes stared. Eventually, her silvery voice broke the quietude, and in a very firm manner she said, "Put out that cigarette, you smell like an ashtray."

A surprised snicker was emitted from the eavesdropping drummer, and his single, uncovered eye peered down at Ruto from beneath his shady hood. He couldn't believe her, honestly. He couldn't believe the nerve of rich people who had always been rich, thinking they simply owned and commanded the population of the lowly impoverished beneath them, not that he counted anymore.

"Are you gonna write me a big, juicy check to get me to do what you want if I say no?"

"No," Ruto answered, matter-of-fact and a tiny bit peeved that she was being questioned, rather than wholly respected, "But if you don't put out that disgusting cigarette and go pick up a cheeseburger for me, I'm going to rethink sleeping on your tourbus tonight."

"Wha..?," Cedric's single eye sort of stared into nothing as he fought himself, trying to be certain he was understanding what Ruto was saying to him. "You mean..?," his words trailed off as he pointed to himself with confusion written all over his face.

"I wanted to talk to you about your tattoo artist, but, uhh..," the girl leaned to one side of her chair, resting her weight on a single elbow as she slyly eyed the perplexed drummer and smirked, "yeah, that's what I meant. But only if you get to it."

The cigarette between Cedric's fingers fell to the ground as though it had never been there, dying harshly beneath his shoe.

;

The car rumbled then shuddered as the engine was turned off, leaving only the subtle smell of the gas fumes that always seemed to permeate from its old engine and the chilly air inside the cab nipping at fingers and noses, whatever was exposed.

The woman behind the wheel gave her head a nod after one last look around, sure that she had come to the correct house. "This is it, I believe," she stated in a calm, sweet voice, looking to her young daughter, who was peering out the window in a stifled kind of amazement.

"Are you sure?" Impa asked, her voice steady but doubtful. Every house in this neighborhood seemed to be larger than anybody could ever require, with gaudy fountains adorning the lawns, which were so deeply green and uniform in color, it almost looked like some kind of plush carpet, scattered with flowering, exotic plants.

The particular house they had pulled up to had been gated, yet even despite her mother being able to make it through, Impa had her doubts. She had heard stories of a friend her mother met during her time as a soldier, but she never once mentioned that her fellow soldier friend was so wealthy.

"Yes, of course I'm sure," Impa's mother assured with a soft chuckle, unsure where her daughter acquired such a cautious nature.

The car door opened with a groan from its hinges, and the driver's careful fingers reached down beside her seat to search for her walking cane before she turned in her seat and slid from the car with a slight effort. The young girl could only trust her mother's judgement and crawl from the car herself, further investigating the unfamiliar surroundings with curiosity written on her otherwise impassive features.

Walking by her mother's side, Impa maintained a slow, careful pace; her legs were very long for her age and she didn't wish to tire out her mother inadvertently. She was simply thankful that the few stairs that led up to the front door were fairly shallow and not difficult for her mother to climb.

"Are you really sure about this?," the young girl asked in a concerned tone as her mother rang the bell.

"Have some faith in me," the woman replied, softly shaking her head as she waited for the door to be answered.

Impa had only a few moments to observe the ornate details of the door, the pattern of the frosted window panes, before it was smoothly opened by a sharply dressed man in black.

"Hello Ma'am, we've been expecting you," he greeted Impa's mother and she smiled politely as she was shown inside. The man immediately took their coats, though the young girl handed hers over a bit warily, but equally curious. Was this not the person her mother had come to see, because he certainly wasn't behaving like an old friend?

"Sahfavi!," come a boisterous voice, which the young girl quickly turned her deep ruby eyes to, finding that the voice belonged to yet another finely dressed man, who wore a warm smile upon his face that shined with fondness as he approached. His arms were widespread and he greeted his guest with an affectionate hug.

Watching, Impa recalled about how her mother had told her that her friends in the army called her by her last name, which was how this man had greeted her as well, so the young girl had little reason for doubt any longer.

"And this must be Impa," said the man as he looked to the young girl. Impa's deep, observant eyes drank in this man's appearance. He was older than her mother, his hair a stark white, his face round yet with some angular features to it. He extended his hand to the girl and she shook it, saying politely, "It's nice to meet you."

"She has your shocking, fair hair color and such good manners," he spoke to Impa's mother with a smile on his face, though he looked upon Impa with almost the same kind of pride he may regard a niece or nephew with. "I'm sure my Zelda would love to meet her. Would it be alright for my butler to take her upstairs to meet my daughter?"

"That's a good idea," Impa's mother gave a nod as she spoke, her voice gentle. "Is that alright with you, Impa?"

The young girl offered a soft nod of her head, supposing that meeting with another person her age was sure to be more interesting than simply listening to the adults talk.

"Very good," the man praised with great joy, then beckoned his dear friend to follow after him, saying "And we should get you off your feet, shouldn't we? Let me get you a drink."

As the two adults ventured down the fantastically decorated hallway, the man who had answered the door regarded Impa, saying to her, 'This way, Miss,' before leading her toward a grand staircase that twisted gracefully up toward ceilings that were much higher than any Impa had ever seen- Impa was quickly discovering that everything in this house was unlike anything she had ever seen, in fact.

The young girl followed after the butler in silence and he said nothing more to her either, simply acting as an escort to the upper level, and halting before one of the many doors, opening it up to a bedroom and showing Impa inside.

A wondrous amount of sunlight poured in through windows that stretched to the ceiling, and Impa's vibrant eyes blinked in amazement as she took her first step into the room. It was larger than even her own parents' bedroom, a palace of petal pink that colored the walls, and more toys than she could comprehend belonging to only one child.

There were shelves of dolls and a row of multiple dollhouses to accompany them. A miniature dining table of pale, white wood and lovely, hand-carved detailing, which was set for tea. There was an original, handcrafted rocking horse in the company of plush horses larger than even Impa herself, and a collection of smaller horse figurines with frilly, pink saddles. A walk-in closet was casually left open, so that a collection of formal-looking dresses tailored specifically to a child-sized body could easily be observed.

Then, amidst it all was a lovely entertainment center that held shelves lined with movies and books, and a television that a young girl happened to be perched, watching. The movie she was viewing happened to be 'Sleeping Beauty', and it was moments from the scene where Aurora meets Phillip for the first time, well into the Princess's song.

"Miss, a new friend has come to meet you," the butler spoke, and the young girl's face quickly turned toward her doorway, her long, golden hair softly fluttering and flowing over her tiny shoulders with her movement. The girl's bright, blue gaze immediately fell upon the other girl in her doorway, her eyes like reflective jewels beneath doll lashes.

Zelda's pink lips delicately curved into a smile as bright as the sun, and with a gleeful expression on her face, she jumped up excitedly and ran to Impa that very instant, grabbing the more reserved girl and pulling her into a formal dancing position without even a word of greeting.

The taller girl's mind raced at this bizarre behavior, though her body scarcely resisted in her confusion. Her face was painted in distress and though the slightly younger girl was looking directly into her eyes, she only smiled as though everything were normal in her merriment.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream!," the little girl sang along with Phillip, her voice sweet but not quite getting the melody precise. Then, she twirled round with Impa in her gentle grasp, the older girl flustered but managing not to trample the blonde girl's toes in the process. Zelda's voice erupted into giggles, whereas Impa was looking toward where the Butler had been standing, as if to beg for assistance in dealing with the situation. However, the man was already gone.

Luckily, the blonde girl released Impa within the next instant, finally deciding to actually introduce herself after such an unusual greeting. "How do you do. I'm Princess Zelda."

"..I'm Impa," the taller girl spoke hesitantly, unsure whether or not to expect any further antics from the strange, shorter girl.

"I know," Zelda answered with a giggle, her blue eyes shining with playful mischief that bid the older girl's nervous curiosity.

"You.. do?," Impa asked without really thinking on the other girl's words, confounded.

"Yup, we've met before! Once upon a dream!" the blonde girl laughed, placing a tiny hand over her lips as she did so.

Uncertain how to react, Impa stood, just awkwardly staring at the peculiar girl. She had never met somebody who acted in such a random way, and wasn't even sure she would enjoy any further interaction, though she knew she couldn't possibly just ask her mother to leave when she hadn't visited with her friend in such a long time.

Zelda, on the other hand, knew exactly what she wished to do already, or else her uncanny amount of friendliness toward even a stranger drove her along without much need for thoughtful consideration. Without any hesitance, she reached out and gently clasped Impa's hand, leading her toward the table that sat before one of her great, wide windows.

"You're just in time for afternoon tea!" Zelda's sweet voice stated with such sureness, it was truly as if she believed Impa had come for this exact purpose, and unquestionably desired to do so. She showed her new friend to a chair, then sat across from her in a manner most prim, pouring a small cup of tea for both herself and her company, then welcoming Impa to add whatever she may like.

The older girl was amazed and somewhat impressed that the tea wasn't even make believe as she expected, but real. At least, her understanding was that many young girls enjoyed the act of pretending to drink tea, rather than actually drinking it, which was a bit odd, but who was she to decide what people should do for enjoyment?

Peering into her cup, the brew was a warm reddish-brown in the light, similar to the hue of her eyes, and though she found the opaque cups a bit tedious for trying to determine if the tea was strong enough or even too strong, she supposed she could simply test it by tasting it? The cup was brought to her lips and she took a tentative sip, finding that it had a robust flavor, but that it was also light enough to enjoy. Actually, though she quickly discovered that it was just plain, black tea, it was very good quality, even better than the tea she had at home. Yet it was used for this girl's playtime? Something about that was very odd.

"You don't want milk or sugar?" the blonde girl across from Impa asked, a confused note to her voice though she smiled easily in acceptance, merely curious.

"No," Impa replied, not unaware that milk was an option to be used in tea, though she found it a strange one, "though your tea is sorely lacking flavor. You might add cardamom or rosewater, maybe?"

"Huh?," Zelda said with a tilt of her head and a tiny wrinkle of confusion between her brows.

"..nevermind," the older girl said, shaking her head, "So, do you have friends over for tea like this...often?"

Laughing, the blonde girl gave a few little nods of her head, saying, "Oh yes!"

"Did you have friends coming today?" Impa asked, wondering if that was how the other girl could have possibly had tea brewed for the occasion, or did somebody simply do it for her on a constant basis?

"No," the younger girl now shook her head, her blonde hair glimmering gold in the halo of sunlight upon her head, "I just have tea with my dolls usually. And sometimes the butler, if he's not busy. He is usually busy though."

"But, you said.. You had tea with friends often?" Impa uttered, confused.

"Yes!" said Zelda, "my dolls are friends."

"..oh," the older girl mumbled, still minutely confused, though she was rapidly beginning to understand the situation. Her curious eyes gave the pink palace of a bedroom another observant glance, her gaze moving over the numerous dolls and toys, _Zelda's friends_, her _only_ friends, as it seemed to be. "What about your Father?," Impa asked in a gentler tone than she had likely been using, her focus returning to the company before her.

"No, he's always busy," the young girl answered, taking a small serving plate into her delicate grasp and holding it before her guest, "Would you like a biscuit?"

"No thanks," Impa shook her head to the offer, then continued on the previous topic, "So you just do this by yourself, then?"

"No, of course not," Zelda stated insistently, "I do it with my dolls and sometimes the butler. You don't listen very well do you, Impa?" The tiny heiress laughed at her silly guest, her voice full of innocence. However, as the other girl sat across from her in silence, Zelda gave a smile, her deep, blue eyes shining and cheerful, "Will you be my friend?"

Impa nodded, at last giving the other girl a tiny smile in exchange for such an offer, answering, "Yeah, sure."

;

Sure, it was her tourbus too, so perhaps it would appear a bit silly that she tapped on the door before she entered. How it looked mattered little to her, however, as she cared more that her dearest friend was aware that it was her and not some blatant intruder.

Zelda did not answer or acknowledge the warning in any way, so when Impa entered, she strode the corridor that stretched the length of the bus to check Zelda's bunk, as her bandmate was otherwise nowhere to be found. The curtain that concealed the other woman's bottom-set bunk was pulled shut, and Impa carefully drew back the veil just enough so the lights from above beamed softly in on Zelda.

Zelda was tightly wound in the midnight blue of her blankets, her face pressed into her pillow, her golden hair splayed in wavy tendrils about the sheets, now freed from the braid she wore on stage. Her harp lay forgotten by her side, as though she had strummed the strings, which were as taut as her nerves, until it soothed her enough to lay still as she did now.

"Are you asleep in there, _Princess_?" came the sound of Impa's voice, gentle yet playful.

The younger woman made the tiniest scoff at such teasing, though as she rolled onto her back to look up at her friend, she could not resist nor hide the soft, fond smile that fell upon the petal pink of her lips. "Don't call me that," she murmured in complaint, her eyes like faded stars as she looked up from the dark cavern of her bunk, her skin a stark contrast of flawless porcelain against the navy blankets.

"Are you still upset?" Impa asked in a careful tone, sitting herself down on the edge of the bunk across from Zelda's own. Of course this question was one that Impa did not have to ask at all- she knew perfectly well that the apparent scandal caused by Zelda's stage identity had grown to fever pitch, and the nonstop nonsense revolving around it only intensified with each passing day. It was impossible for Zelda to stop fretting over such a thing, especially when the very genesis of the idea had been for the purpose of protecting her true identity and maintaining a comfortable separation between her musical career and her other life responsibilities as heiress to her family's fortune.

Because of the obviousness of this inquiry's response, Zelda did not bother to answer, choosing to sigh instead, dull eyes gazing sightlessly at the bunk above, her mind some place teetering on the edge of chaos. Some nights she felt if 'Zelda' could just cease to exist, then she could be free.

"Good," Impa gave her head a nod, her tone serious though her words quickly belied her dry sarcasm, "then I won't be ruining the improvement of your mood when I tell you what has happened."

Zelda's head turned with such quickness, it mattered little how hard she fought to hide the anxiousness from showing on her face, the touch of fear in her eyes, imploring as she met Impa's gaze.

The older of the two began, her words slow and careful as she explained, "It seems that.. our peeping tom has decided that he wishes to work as part of our staff."

"What?" the blonde girl hissed as she raised herself quickly up onto one elbow, her voice the vessel for an eruption of feelings; horror, shock and a touch of anger. She searched Impa's face in desperation, bidding her friend tell her this was some sick, twisted joke.

"Calm down," Impa stated, "Ruto is having a contract written up that states he isn't even legally allowed to mention you, and he is definitely barred from any distribution of your physical image. Actually.. I don't think he was really up to anything." Hesitation laced itself between the lines of Impa's words. She truly had no clue if that boy had been up to something malicious, but her own emotional turmoil was preventing her from making an accurate judge of character. She merely repeated Ruto's own words on the matter, knowing it had settled her own fears the tiniest bit.

Slowly, as Zelda took in the words of her dear friend, she sunk back down into her sheets, laying with her palms pressed gently overtop of her eyelids.

"If you need to think on something to make yourself feel better about the situation, remember that Fi will be the boy's boss, now. He'll likely be begging his parents or whoever, to fly him home after one show."

At long last, Zelda somewhat laughed, though it was quiet and breathy. Yet as slight a sound as it was, it brought a small smile to Impa's face; to know that even the tiniest ripple of joy could be made in the deep sea of worries that had engulfed her friend- it assured her that Zelda had yet to sink beyond her reach.

"That's probably true," Zelda uttered in a soft, placid tone, one hand reaching toward the light beyond her bunk, toward the comforting grasp of Impa's own hand reassuring her.

"You don't have to worry," Impa spoke softly, "I'm here for you. We're all here for you. No matter what happens, I'll always be right here, so you'll never have to feel isolated or alone. You know that I would do anything to protect your happiness.. So please, don't let your fear steal away all of your smiles.. or I'll begin to think I haven't done everything I can."

The corners of Zelda's lips curled ever so slightly for just a moment before she hesitantly uttered, "But... I want to protect your happiness, too. You don't seem to understand that."

There was so much more to this than Zelda could say, even if she could arrange the fragmented pieces of her logic into something that began to make sense. Uncertainty was clouding her judgment as surely as she began to feel that Sheik was consuming her one slow, torturous bit at a time- nothing broke her more than the closing song of each show, taking off her costume and facing the reality of being Zelda at the end of the night. Time was slipping through her fingers, responsibility grew heavier on her shoulders, and the shroud of secrecy grew more transparent with each passing second.

Impa tried so hard, so hard that Zelda wished she had the strength to push her away, to disallow her from fighting this losing battle. Impa couldn't see that Zelda's happiness was bound to be the martyr, no matter how hard she fought to protect it.

Zelda gave her friend's hand a gentle tug, drawing Impa nearer, so that she was being pulled into the younger girl's bunk, though she did not struggle. Zelda reached to touch Impa's face, delicate fingertips smoothing over the curve of her cheek, needing to be close to her, her source of both strength and doubt, happiness and turmoil.

"Sleep here, with me?" Zelda bid, her voice sweet and delicate, her eyes boring into the crimson warmth of Impa's own, as though she could wrap herself up in that gaze. Impa smiled and gave a nod, no resistance within her, though she managed to wring one single moment of time from her dear Zelda's grasp.

"Let me see if I can find some other clothes to change into in the chaos of this bus," Impa said, though she did not immediately pull herself from Zelda's grasp or sight, instead moving nearer, leaning over the other woman like a protective shroud and gingerly pressing her lips against the petal soft of Zelda's own, careful yet lingering in the slow, deliberate fondness of those treasured seconds.

;

"I can not believe my workers are being hired without any consent from me; did you even bring a resume with you?" the woman asked, her words sounding as though they should reflect anger, but her tone was devoid of anything, which made Link that much more nervous. She had seemed almost pleasant before this, whereas now her gleaming, blue eyes were boring into him expectantly and he could only shake his head, feeling quite sheepish in his silence.

Those vibrant eyes looked over him, absorbing him, analyzing him, and the young man watched as one single, delicate brow on his new boss's impassive countenance quirked very slightly.

"I'll assume the only clothes you have are the ones on your back, am I correct in saying that?" she asked- it came out sounding like a statement, because she was very certain of her assumptions, after all she had made a career of properly calling uncertain situations.

Again, Link just nodded. He didn't think he should have felt as ashamed of himself as he did, but this woman did an excellent job of convincing him that he was wrong in just existing, without even trying to do so.

A soft sigh was emitted from the woman, not a single ounce of frustration outwardly apparent, her mind steady as she took a few seconds to go over what needed to be done about this lone worker being randomly added to her roster. When Fi came to a detail that hitched her delicate planning, she looked again to Link with her questions.

"Please tell me that you have some money of your own and that you're not simply likened to a stray cat that was picked up off the street. You'll need to get yourself proper work clothes, a bag for all of your luggage, and I'll have to make a few calls tomorrow to get you into a clinic so that we can see to it that your vaccinations are up to date. We can't have you becoming a statistically unimportant snag in our program at the point that the tour leaves this country in exactly three weeks and two days."

To this minute detail, Link somewhat perked up, a tiny bit of excitement managing to bubble up inside him, despite being made to feel absolutely foolish for this hasty decision otherwise. "We're going to other countries?" his timid voice asked, a small smile lighting up his features. He felt like a little kid receiving an unexpected gift. He had always dreamed of traveling and other adventurous things like what he could only ever read about in his books. In his heart, he had lived a thousand hero's lives, every word he read fulfilling him but further inflaming his yearning, until it was unbearable.

Fi only shook her head, absolutely unimpressed. "They brought on a boy who doesn't even know the tour schedule. I would be surprised if you were even the legal age to hold employment." The manager of the workers strode very near the young man, placing her face directly before his, threatening him with her pure seriousness, her aggressive apathy.

"I am going to give you a package of paperwork to fill out tonight at our hotel. You will complete it and turn it in to me tomorrow at precisely 10am and no later. At that time, I will tell you where and what time your appointment will be to have your vaccinations made up to date. You will go out, have that done, return to me with records of your vaccinations, and while you're out you will pick up the items that I previously stated that you will require. After you've done all that, you'll be put to work, and you'll give it 110% of your capacity for work, or you'll be 100% hitchhiking back to where you came from. Do you understand?"

The young man's throat moved in a nervous swallow, and once again he nodded his head.

;

TBC


End file.
